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BORO v MANCHESTER CITY BLAST FROM THE PAST
Manchester City- seemingly forever caught in the shadow of their more illustrious neighbour, only crawling out of the light on the occasions when they manage to beat them. But it never used to be like this.
Indeed at one time Manchester City were a dynamic and successful side with honours aplenty. In fact they were even more successful than United. Then they decided to flirt with the same temptress that has dogged the Boro for so many years- going up and down more times than a hooker with a methadone dependency and suddenly, like the hooker, they were buggered.
They did a Boro and sank to the third tier in football- only to bounce straight back to the top again and then be relegated. They also have had financial problems and last season pushed for the Uefa Cup places, like us. And in the latter case it was only one penalty kick that was the difference between relative success and failure for the two teams.
So there are many similarities between us and because of it, I suspect there is more empathy too. Whether this is reflected in your memories or not I will leave you to be the judge...
Penguin Jack
Middlesbrough 2-1 Manchester City, 03/12/1991
Manchester City 0-1 Middlesbrough, 15/02/1997
One that sticks in the memory big time is back in the 1991-1992 season when we played them in the League Cup at home. It was a chilly misty old night and some time during the first half a major fog descended on Ayresome Park. It got so bad that we, who were standing in the Holgate, could see nothing of the pitch apart from the goal, and Boro keeper Stephen Pears was left shrugging his shoulders as to what the hell was going on in front of him.
Then a rumour started to come to the Holgate via Chinese whispers that started in the south stand that the roar we had just heard was indeed a Boro goal!!! Then as quick as it came, the fog lifted, half time arrived and we had no idea what the bloody score was. We went on to win 2-1 and went all the way to the semi-final that year.
The other Man City game that sticks in my memory is the FA Cup tie at Maine Road when Juninho scored and ran the full length of the pitch to celebrate in front of us. What happened after was the scary part when half of Manchester seemed to be waiting outside to get at the Boro fans and do us some serious damage. I was with a girl who upon seeing the potential carnage started to panic and fear for her life. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and back to Manchester Piccadilly sharpish.
So after taking shelter in some guy's front garden amidst the battle scene, I asked the householder who was standing on his front door step cheering the lads on how the hell we should get out of there. His advice was run to the nearest bus stop and jump on any bus going in any direction.
We did and after spending three hours touring the delights of Moss Side, and after seeing many a young lady and her pimp standing on street corners, we finally got to the train station only to find we had missed the last direct train. By this time the girl had decided that I was in fact to blame for all of this and didn't bother talking to me for the rest of the very long and complicated journey home.
Andrew Morgan
Middlesbrough 1-0 Manchester City, 17/04/1998
The tension was reaching fever pitch towards the end of this promotion season. The Boro were in a three way battle with Forest and Sunderland to get the two automatic promotion spots from the First Division and, with three weeks to go until the season's end, each and every point was becoming increasingly more valuable. We had practically conceded the title to Forest who were about four points ahead of us at this stage, so we were really in a two way battle with our friends from up the coast. They were putting significant pressure on the Boro, who were in second place going into this game, and thus we knew that every point dropped would be to their advantage. We therefore needed to win every game, whatever the cost. Including this home tie against City.
The crowd were quietly hopeful of success, despite us having lost four of our matches since the beginning of March. City were battling relegation and, although we hadn't set the division alight with our play, we had been consistent enough for us to be confident of obtaining the right result against such relegation fodder. However expectation can also lead to tension and as the game wore on a heavy atmosphere started to develop around the stadium- an atmosphere that could easily be lit by a single spark. And former-Boro stalwart Jamie Pollock was that spark.
I can't remember whether Alun Armstrong's goal, the only goal of the game, came before or after the sending off. I think it was before, quite early on in the game, but my memory fails me on this. However what I do remember is Steve Vickers and Pollock having an altercation in the middle of the field that led to the Boro defender pushing the City midfielder with his head. I accept that this is a red card offence but what disappointed me was Pollock's reaction, as he stood there for a full five seconds after Vickers had done this, thought about what had happened, and only THEN fell to the ground.
At this point I, along with most of the crowd, went apoplectic, screaming abuse at the City midfielder for his unprofessional conduct- for seeming to be deliberately trying to get a fellow professional sent off. And what made it worse was that it was committed against his former club. Either way our rage didn't change the referee's decision and Vickers was sent to the dressing room early. We would have to play the entire second half with ten men.
And this only added to the tension- but perhaps in a positive way- as it spurred the crowd to get behind the lads and scream for victory. We were apprehensive- City were a threat and with only a one goal lead nothing is certain- but in the end they didn't trouble us too much and we resolutely held on. No points dropped- no problem. But we feared that Vickers' forthcoming suspension would be a problem. In the end it wasn't as Sunderland dropped vital points towards the end of the season, leaving our destiny in our own hands.
And we all know what happened against Oxford United on the final day of the season. But on 17 April 1998 I realised that loyalty to former clubs meant nothing and that in the heat of the battle you had to fend for yourself and for your side. Luckily, we passed the test that Pollock set us that day.
Fiddler on the Smog
Manchester City 1-1 Middlesbrough, 15/05/2005
Starting drinking at 9:15 on a Sunday morning after a night on contraband substances probably isn't the cleverest idea I've ever had but I did it anyway.
I was dropped off at a certain hostelry in Stockton armed with eight cans of Woodpecker for the journey and met up with the other revellers for a few brews before the minibus turned up. Pulling up into the car park I noticed that there were quite a few people standing around outside the pub. The landlord of the said pub (which shall remain nameless for licensing law reasons) had forgotten to wake up and let us in.
When the bus turned up we discovered that although we had ordered transportation for twelve people the driver had decided to bring his kid. Way to go, dickhead. So for a long part of the journey the smallest of the passengers (so it would be harder for any passing police to spot them) had to take turns to sit between the rear seats of the bus, leaning against a door which was disconcertingly held closed with a piece of thin blue rope. Needless to say I was one of the smallest that day.
After the obligatory toilet stop on the A1 we arrived at Witchwood in Ashton-under-Lyme via several wrong turns and an unscheduled toilet stop in a residential street for two of the chaps. To say the place was rough is an understatement, but they did a cracking BBQ and they sold Stolly gold, although the ladies made the worst toilet in Scotland look like the bogs at the Tall Trees when it was first built.
Driving up the main road towards the City of Manchester Stadium with someone's drunk aunt hanging out the window shouting 'come on Boro' at every Manchester City fan she saw was slightly unnerving, especially with the reaction from some of the more hardcore City fans we went past.
A couple of us went for a quick drink in a bar just outside of the City of Manchester Stadium (jackets firmly zipped up to the neck) in what could have been described as a working man's club with no tables and chairs. We got talking to some City fans who had their kids with them and steered clear of the ones stood in the corner giving us daggers after they found out we were Boro fans.
The match had already kicked off by the time we got into the stadium and we were looking like we would be fighting fires on the pitch all afternoon. We won a free kick about twelve yards from the City box and Jimmy whacked an absolute screamer- one nil to us. By this time the mini Nazis, or as they are better known, the stewards, had given up trying to stop us standing although one did give me a mild bollocking over me smoking on the terraces at half time.
In the second half, just as I was getting back to my seat, City equalised through Musampa, who I thought had been looking good during the first half. I sat through a second half that resulted in me having no fingers left at full-time never mind nails. City kept a barrage going all through the half and it looked inevitable that they would score. Pearce obviously decided to throw everything including and surpassing the kitchen sink into the game and took off Reyna, replaced James in goal with their reserve keeper Weaver and put James up front. Watching James weave around trying to get past our defenders gave me the biggest laugh of the day; he appeared to look like he was wading through mud when he had the ball at his feet.
The best Hollywood scriptwriters couldn't have written what happened next. City kept pushing and pushing and then the worst thing that could happen in added-on time did happen. Frank appeared to handball in the box and a penalty was given. Whether it was a penalty is still a question I have seven months down the line. Fowler was the one to take it. By this time my finger ends were red raw and I was just peeping over the top of my coat. It seemed to take ages for everyone on the pitch to settle down. There was complete hush from the Boro end of the stadium- you could have heard a pin drop. Fowler stepped up to the ball and took what could be described as a piss poor attempt at a penalty, the greatest Australian hero since Ned Kelly read him like a book and went down to his left. We were safe and into Europe for the second season running.
The Boro end exploded like Buncefield. I dived into the crowd of my mates shouting like a woman possessed. Absolutely every one of the 3000 odd Boro fans were shouting, cheering, screaming and those who had a little bit too much to drink before the game, crying.
After the final whistle the team came over to thank and congratulate the fans on another great season. Southgate did the usual punches in the air and Windy Miller (floppy haired Dutch midfeilder who left for Liverpool) came over and did the Wayne's World we're not worthy thing.
The journey back was rather subdued apart from the songs we were singing at the start and to make our journey back a little more exciting the mini bus driver took a wrong turn for a change- knob jockey.
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The greatest Australian hero since Ned Kelly indeed. Check out how that particular expression entered Boro folklore right here.
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And finally, a look at two special games against City from two different eras...
Middlesbrough 3-0 Manchester City, Saturday 21 September 1974 was probably the most memorable day that I ever had at Ayresome Park. City were a great side in those days. The names Francis Lee, Colin Bell, Joe Corrigan and many others were enough to make any side fear the light blue side of Manchester.
But Boro feared nobody in those days and to say we wiped City out is not an exaggeration. It is a plain and simple fact. Sendings off in the mid-seventies were rare and the first one that I ever saw was at this game. Willie Donachie had become completely frustrated at being beaten time and time again by Alan Foggon, who could pretty much outrun any defender then and at 2-0 up and absolutely cruising, Donachie brought Foggon down for a free kick near the half way line and was promptly booked.
Not long after, Foggon outwitted him yet again and I have this vivid recollection of my father standing up and shouting at the top of his voice, "Off- Off- Off", whilst fisting the air with each "Off" call. He got so enthusiastic about this that the momentum of the punches sent him flying down the Ayresome stairwell and he missed Donachie getting his marching orders. Shortly after that, Foggon ran on to a Souness through ball and banged in number three, sending the Ayresome crowd crazy and producing the most rousing noise that I have ever heard before or since. A vintage Boro performance.
Moving on to Manchester City, and Middlesbrough 2-1 Manchester City, January 1992. It was the FA Cup 3rd round and I was living in Darlington at the time. Don't ask! Taking the train from Darlo to Boro at the same time as me were a boatload of City fans and they of the First Division/Premier League were taking great delight in over-confidently predicting a heavy City win over their Second Division opposition. And during the first half, you wouldn't have bet against it. I can still remember hearing Monkey Heid shouting his head off after heading in the opening goal. I heard it loud and clear because it silenced The Holgate.
But Leonard Lawrence's Red and White Army held them off in the second half and we always thought that we had a chance. The defence was resolute right to the end and the Boro midfield held their own, right up until eighty six minutes when Big Alan Kerhaghan broke loose and equalised.
Just as we were planning a day off the following Wednesday for the replay, the ball fell to Paul Wilkinson on the half way line and the chatter ceased as he went forward. At the edge of the box, he was up against a solid City backline but he was not going to be outdone. What did he do? He lobbed the keeper from twenty yards out, silenced Monkey Heid and sent the City fans packing. I saw many games in the Lennie era but this is the one that stands out above all others.
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